“Hello, hello!” croaked the raven drowsily. “Smartest—smartest—smartest leg.” “You catchee sleepee, Tling-a-Ling,” murmured the Chinaman. “Mrs. Sin no likee you palaber, lo!” “Burn it!” cried the woman, “burn the one-eyed horror!” But when, carrying a lighted lantern, Sin Sin Wa presently came into the inner room, he smiled as imperturbably as ever, and was unmoved so far as external evidence showed. Sin Sin Wa set the lantern upon a Moorish coffee-table which once had stood beside the divan in Mrs. Sin’s sanctum at the House of a Hundred Raptures. A significant glance—its significance an acute puzzle to the recipient—he cast upon Chief Inspector Kerry. His hands tucked in the loose sleeves of his blouse, he stood looking down at the woman who lay moaning on the bed; and: “_Tchée, tchée_,” he crooned softly, “you hate no catchee die, my beautiful. You sniffee plenty too muchee ‘white snow,’ _hoi, hoi!_ Velly bad woman tly makee you catchee die, but Sin Sin Wa no hate got for killee chop. Topside pidgin no good enough, lo!” His thick, extraordinary long pigtail hanging down his back and gleaming in the rays of the lantern, he stood, head bowed, watching Rita Irvin. Because of his position on the floor, Mrs. Irvin was invisible from Kerry’s point of view, but she continued to moan incessantly, and he knew that she must be unconscious of the Chinaman’s scrutiny. “Hurry, old fool!” came Mrs. Sin’s harsh voice from the outer room. “In ten minutes Ah Fung will give the signal. Is she dead yet—the doll-woman?” “She hate no catchee die,” murmured Sin Sin Wa, “She still vella beautiful—_tchée!_” It was at the moment that he spoke these words that Seton Pasha entered the empty building above and found the spaniel scratching at the paved floor. So that, as Sin Sin Wa stood looking down at the wan face of the unfortunate woman who refused to die, the dog above, excited by Seton’s presence, ceased to whine and scratch and began to bark. Faintly to the vault the sound of the high-pitched barking penetrated. Kerry tensed his muscles and groaned impotently feeling his heart beating like a hammer in his breast. Complete silence reigned in the outer room. Sin Sin Wa never stirred. Again the dog barked, then: “Hello, hello!” shrieked the raven shrilly. “Number one p’lice chop, lo! Sin Sin Wa! Sin Sin Wa!” There came a fierce exclamation, the sound of something being hastily overturned, of a scuffle, and: “Sin—Sin—Wa!” croaked the raven feebly. The words ended in a screeching cry, which was followed by a sound of wildly beating wings. Sin Sin Wa, hands tucked in sleeves, turned and walked from the inner room, closing the sliding door behind him with a movement of his shoulder. Resting against the empty shelves, he stood and surveyed the scene in the vault.